


finding home

by ocaptainrogers



Category: The Hobbit (2012) RPF
Genre: 5 first times, Falling In Love, Fluff, Holding Hands, I hope, M/M, Pre-Slash, Slash, awkward first kiss, eskimo kiss?, lee is an awkward bun, no gay freak-outs bc im sick of those, skinny love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-01
Updated: 2013-10-30
Packaged: 2017-12-07 04:59:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/744519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ocaptainrogers/pseuds/ocaptainrogers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>5 FIRST TIMES-thing</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. meet

**Author's Note:**

> Pinterest-page for Richard's flat:  
> pinterest.com/beornsbees/finding-home-richlee/

Richard remembers very well the first time he met Lee Pace, a bit too well, perhaps. Not down to the littlest detail, but close enough. So close that he creeps himself out at times, when he sits down and thinks about it.

He remembers the first time he saw Aidan Turner and Dean O’Gorman, too, but he can’t recall what they both were wearing at the time. Or what they said for that matter, beside the _Hello’s_ and _Nice to meet you’s_. Neither can he remember much about what was said when he met Peter Jackson, either, and _that_ upsets him a little, to be honest, because Peter Jackson is the regular fan that became the hero. He _should_ remember everything about that, but he doesn’t.

Lee, though, about Lee he can recall just about everything, and to his great annoyance it’s only mildly upsetting.

No, because the memory of seeing Lee Pace in a long blond wig, and dressed in silver with a branch on his head is much more prominent, like it happened yesterday and not half a year ago. He has no idea why he can still picture the way Lee’s eyebrows rose in that particular way when he caught sight of Richard, or how it felt to hold his elf-like hand in his own when they first met, or the way he threw his head back and laughed when Richard said something stupid he actually _can’t_ remember. He hasn’t anything against that one in particular; he’d rather not know how most likely embarrassed himself.

Richard would also very much like to know why he still has the pen Lee borrowed him one time. He had intended to return it before Lee went back to the States, but then he forgot and it’s still placed in Richard’s _Winnie the Pooh_ porcelain cup in his trailer. Maybe he intends to give it back when he returns, or maybe it’s just because it’s Lee’s, or a piece of Lee that was left behind, and Richard is hoping that Lee might remember the pen and come knocking on Richard’s door and ask if he still has it.

Or maybe it’s just that Richard doesn’t have any pens of his own, and it’s his unfortunate habit of stealing other people’s pens that’s giving him a guilty conscience. Whatever it is, Richard doesn’t think about it. Well, he _tries_ not to think about it, but then he looks at his _the Hobbit_ -calendar taped to his tiny fridge in his tiny trailer, sees the red thick line around a date he’s been thinking about way too much, and remembers that Lee’s coming back in two months for _the Desolation of Smaug_ ; and then his heart does this thing where it skips a beat for whatever reason.

Some days, though, Richard _does_ let himself relieve the memory. The sights, the sounds, the odd feeling of warmth spreading through him when Lee wasted no time going for a hug first instead of a handshake; grinning and laughing, all the while looking like the happiest person on Earth.

-

It had been on a Tuesday and they were shooting a scene from the prologue where Thranduil walks up to the Dwarf king, Thror, his son Thrain and Thorin. It was the first time Richard ever saw Lee; they were both tired from a long day of fitting costumes and getting their make-up on, especially Lee, who hadn’t even tried his costume on before today. He looked like a child getting to open his Christmas presents early, all big grins and stupid hand gestures and _Wow, look at all the details, so amazing, especially my crown, look at it!_ as he holds everything up so they can all see it.

Richard had smiled and blushed at Lee’s forward personality, falling instantly in love with his seemingly endless energy and array of topics to discuss, and his big words, and his _smiles_.

If he remembers correctly – and he does - what happened afterward, when Elijah Wood and Ian Holm – who were going home the next day – took them both with them to the cafeteria, they had been left at table by themselves and had an argument about whether or not birds counted as animals, or if they were just _birds._ Richard can’t remember who won that discussion, but he does remember the sharpness in Lee’s eyes when he talked about his fascination with _Richard III_ , and how his smile widened when Richard admitted to be rather well versed in _the Tragedy of King Richard the third_ too.

“This is really nice,” Lee suddenly said after a moment’s pause and smiled, shoulders hitching up and eyebrows slightly raised, making him appear twenty years younger than he really was, and Richard fell a tiny bit more in love with him.

Richard had a feeling he was talking about the two of them sitting alone – Ian and Elijah were nowhere to be seen – at a table in the cafeteria in Wellington. He found himself hoping it was, but asked anyway, “What’s nice?”

Lee shrugged and let out a short laugh, eyes softening as he turned to look out the window they were seated at, following the busy crew members as they jogged around, in and out of trucks and buildings, carrying ladders and long cables and camera equipment. “I don’t know. Everything. Just … yeah,” he trails off and turns his head towards Richard again. “Meeting everybody, knowing I’ll be back next year. And this,” he says and gently picks Thranduil’s crown off his head. “This raspberry bush is really, really cool, too.”

Richard laughs watches as Lee’s cheeks turn a slightly deeper shade of pink. “You’re right,” he says eventually and reaches forward to drag his finger over one of the leaves. “It’s beautifully crafted, this.”

Lee immediately leans forward. “They look like real leaves. I mean, more real than most fake plants.”

“Yeah,” Richard says and sniggers. “It’s not heavy is it-no,” he picks it up gently from Lee’s hands and balances it. He wants to try it on, but his head as Thorin is entirely too large for it to fit, and he doesn’t want to break it since it appears that Lee has grown quite attached to the unusual headgear already.

“The ring’s kinda heavy though,” Lee mumbles and holds his left hand up, showing Richard the large white stone on his index finger. “I wear a couple other rings too, but I like this one better. Looks like something between marble and silver, I hope I get to keep it,” he adds around a laugh and holds up his other hand too showing two more rings, both made of something that looks like branches forged from silver and gold.

Richard nods, impressed, and smiles. He hands the crown back, careful to not let it fall, and leans back in his chair. “How’s the prosthetics treating you? Not allergic, I hope,” he asks and scratches his nose, glad his prosthetic hand-gloves are off; they make scratching a nightmare.

Lee brightens up considerably at the mention of the ears, like wearing them is the best thing that’s ever happened to him. “They’re really cool, and they feel so real!”

They certainly look real, Richard thinks and grins at Lee’s childlike enthusiasm as he goes on about how different and easy they are to wear compared to the fake breasts and hips they put on him for his part in _Soldier’s Girl_. Richard hasn’t seen the movie yet, but brought the DVD with him from England in hopes of getting enough downtime to actually see it. They’re doing some _Bag-End_ -scenes without him next week so he’ll most likely get time to do it then.

He gets dragged out of his thoughts when Lee sits up straight in his chair and pushes the long light hair behind his shoulders. He lifts the crown up and places it on top of his head. “How do I look?” he asks and laughs, making the corners of his eyes crinkle, and suddenly he looks nothing at all like the ice cold king of the Woodland Realm, but a humble young man who enjoys dressing up.

Richard knows it’s meant as a joke, but a treacherous part of his brain refuses to recognize it. “Like a king,” is what comes out of his mouth, the words soft and sincere instead of playful. Before he knows it he’s blushing himself and ducking his head. He barely catches the nearly inaudible _You too_ from Lee, but pretends he didn’t hear it, thinking the man opposite him didn’t even mean to say it, that it just slipped out. For some reason he finds himself hoping Lee did mean it; and wonders what that really means.

“I don’t want to leave,” comes the soft huff from Lee after a couple of moments in a comfortable silence. When Richard looks back up, Lee is staring out the window again, but there’s no smile on his face this time. His eyebrows aren’t raised in that playful way, and his shoulders have slumped down.

Richard fights the urge to stand up and gather him up in his arms, knowing that it would make the costume department mad at them. He can’t just move his hand over the table and put it on top of Lee’s either, because they aren’t that kind of friends. At least not yet. And he doesn’t want Lee to take it the wrong way if he _had_ done it, so he just sits there, silent and watchful.

“You’re coming back, though,” he eventually says, when Lee’s been sitting there looking sad for too long.

Lee looks back at him and smiles, but it’s still morose. “That won’t be for a while.”

Richard finds himself leaning over the table and this time he has to actually force himself to not throw his arms around Lee’s shoulders and just _hug_ him. “Sooner than you think,” he says and nods, like he’s trying to cheer up a small child. He hopes it’s working.

Lee’s lips forms the tiniest smile, and Richard takes it as a victory. “It’ll be fun doing the Mirkwood scenes next year,” he says with the intention of distracting Lee from his gloomy thoughts, and by the way he immediately perks up and raises his eyebrows again it’s working.

“How d’you think they’ll make us do it?” Lee asks and leans forward to rest his elbows on the table. “Maybe Peter’ll make me come down from my throne and get all up in your face, that’d be fun,” Lee adds before Richard gets to say anything, and pushes hair back behind his shoulder when his bouncing makes it fall forward again.

“It will be intense, that’s for sure. Lots of shouting too, perhaps,” Richard agrees and adjusts Thorin’s cape when he realizes he’s been sitting on it the entire time. He inwardly cringes when he thinks about what the costume department will do to him when they see the wrinkles. He makes a mental note to try to smooth them out when they get up from their chairs.

“Yeah,” Lee says and rests his chin in his hands, and now he’s getting lost in his own thoughts again. Richard doesn’t say anything as he watches Lee think. Or maybe he’s not thinking about anything; perhaps he’s just watching the three crew members struggling to steer a large pig between parked golf cars and potted plants.

He sits there for a while and just stares. Sometimes Lee’s eyebrows does the Ned-thing, as Richard calls it – when they’re slightly raised, but only in a way that makes him look incredibly insecure about something. Now and again he furrows them, but his face is constructed in such a way that he never looks truly angry. This happens when a guy in a red shirt tosses candy wrap on the ground instead of bothering to find a bin.

When Richard’s sure they’ve been sitting in silence for a bit too long does he move enough to catch Lee’s attention. “I think the make-up ladies wants us back soon,” he says, to which Lee readily agrees. They get up from their chairs and walk out of the building, and heads for the trailer lot. Richard tries to make the wrinkles go away without looking like he’s feeling himself up.

“Your prosthetics are pretty, um,” Lee says and makes a hand gesture that Richard isn’t quite sure what means, “Big. Or, you know. The ears,” he adds, touching a finger to his own ear.

“Ah,” Richard hums, one hand travelling up to touch his own prosthetic ear. “Yes, they’re quite big, aren’t they.”

“Do they absorb sound?” Lee asks, before hurriedly adding, like he thinks he might’ve offended anybody, “I mean, because I was chatting with, um, well _you_ earlier-,”

Richard frowns and whips his head around, fixing his eyes on Lee, who is decidedly not looking back at him, but focusing on his feet as they walk in the direction of the make-up trailer.

“- about how cool it is that there’s a plane with y’all’s faces on it-,”

“I can’t remember that,” Richard throws in, interrupting Lee, though luckily, it doesn’t seem to faze him.

“I know. You, eh, you didn’t hear me,” Lee finishes off with a laugh.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Richard says, but he’s laughing himself; the blush makes a reappearance on his cheeks and he’s glad it’s not visible through all the make-up he’s wearing.

Lee bumps shoulders with him to show that he’s not upset about it. Richard bumps him back and sends a mental thanks in Peter’s direction – that guy sure knows how to put together the perfect cast.


	2. holding hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry this took so long, but it never wanted to end, it just kept growing and growing and wouldn't stop.
> 
> i tried to find out what jed's wife's name is, but i couldn't so i named her margaret.
> 
> and let's pretend jed's house is thirty minutes from wellington, surrounded by open fields and green hills and trees, ok?

Richard is walking out of his trailer in Wellington on a Friday morning for what feels like the thousandth time, taking a long whiff of the crispy air, just as the copper red sun takes its first peeks over the jagged mountains to the east. The clouds shimmer bright in gold where they’re hit by rays of sunlight.

These are his favorite days; when it’s clear enough to see the sun come up and when there are just enough clouds in the sky to make the orange rays dance on them; when he knows it’ll stay sunny the entire day and they do scenes that requires them being outside. He stands for a moment on the last step, the door now closed behind him, and feels the goose bumps starting to cover his naked forearms from the slight chill in the air.

A lone sparrow flies over his head, it’s song reminds him of home, and he turns his head to follow it. What he intended to see when he turned was the bird settling on a branch in the tree by the corner of a brown building ten yards down, or it flying over the _K Stage_ and away into the ever brightening blue sky.

What he sees instead makes him startle so violently he nearly falls right off the stairs and onto the cold asphalt. Luckily for him, the step he was standing on wasn’t more than a foot above the ground; he catches himself and braces his hand against the cold metal side of the trailer, glaring at the couple who’s gotten almost too good at sneaking up on people. He knows it’s not their intention to scare innocent folk admiring birds and sunrises on early mornings, but it has happened more than a few times now, actually; too often for it to be a coincidence.

“Mornin’,” one half of the duo, Aidan Turner, greets and smiles as soon as Richard has stabilized himself, he seems unconcerned by his almost-accident. Dean O’Gorman looks as untroubled as his boyfriend when he nods and echoes Aidan. Richard narrows his eyes, but can’t make himself stay mad at them when they keep smiling at him like _he’s_ the one who made the sun rise that morning. It’s moments like these that makes him wonder when he became their uncle not only in the story, but in real life too.

Not that he minds much; quite the contrary.

Their hands are clasped together between them, both grinning wide like innocent children bringing bouquets they’ve picked themselves on a field overgrown with wild flowers. Aidan’s hair looks absolutely ridiculous as the light breeze plays with his unkempt curls, and his slightly raised shoulders and hand down his pocket, other’s in Dean’s, makes such an adorable picture that he wishes he had a camera at hand. Richard feels the last traces of his sour mood leave him and he shakes his head fondly at the two of them, feeling that familiar warmth of watching his family happy rush through him instead.

“Good morning,” Richard says and allows himself a smile; a small one.

If it was possible, Aidan and Dean both visibly brightens up, as if him addressing them on a cold spring morning in New Zealand was something they’d never thought happen. Richard knows the feeling all too well; he has trouble realizing it himself sometimes, that he’s actually here, that this is happening. He directs a wider smile at them both.

“What can I do you for?” he asks when the pair in front of him hasn’t said anything yet. They appear to be cold though; especially Dean, who is shivering and his shoulders are hunched up just slightly, but he’s still smiling. Aidan’s hair is doing twirls and double backflips in the air, his nose and cheeks are pink, but it doesn’t seem to bother him much at all. But then again he’s Irish, Richard reckons he’s used to cold mornings and mild breezes that doesn’t stay mild for too long.

“You know it’s our day off, right?” Aidan eventually says to which Dean mutters ‘yeah’ and crowds closer to him, seeking warmth.

Richard wants to hand him the woolen blanket he brought over from England, the brown one with the sheep on it. “Yes,” he says automatically, but a second later he changes it to: “What?” when his brain has caught up with what Aidan said. He looks between them to see if they’re joking.

“You didn’t know?” Dean asks and now there’s a frown on his brows like his face has finally caught up with the rest of his body; he tenses his jaws to keep from hacking teeth, it seems.

“Is this a joke, are you joking?” Richard asks them because he has to and watches them both closely because he can tell when they’re lying; Aidan will always scratch his right ear and his smile will falter just a little, but enough for Richard to notice. Dean always clears his throat does this thing with his nose that reminds Richard of a rabbit.

They don’t do any of that now though, and he doesn’t know if he should be happy about his day off or disappointed because no one’s told him about it before now. Neither of them answers him since he’s pretty sure that they know that he knows that they’re telling the truth.

 _Why didn’t anybody tell me that before,_ he wants to ask, but that would make him sound like he’s hurt or upset and he doesn’t want anyone to think he’s hurt or upset, so he decides to say something else instead. “Why are you two up this early then?”

Aidan shrugs and raises his head to look around, settling on the sunset. He watches it for a moment before turning back towards Richard. Dean’s barely-noticable trembling has turned into a constant shiver. Why didn’t he put on a jacket when all he does is complain about the cold every morning?

“We’re just lettin’ ya know about the grill-party Jed’s throwin’ today, attendance is obligatory, he said,” Aidan says a second later and if Richard’s not mistaken he appears to have puffed himself up, like a peacock in that documentary about birds and their mating habits, like he’s proud of himself for passing on Jed’s message.

And then Richard has to stop himself from laughing out loud because now that he’s thinking about the documentary about birds and their mating habits he’s reminded of that paradise bird and all the strange things it did to impress its intended, and magpies and their tendency to collect shiny glimmering things, and how well Aidan and Dean seem to fit right in between those two.

Richard is in the process of figuring out what kind of birds Aidan and Dean would be, but then Aidan starts talking again and his thought-process ends in an abrupt halt and the idea evaporates like a wisp of smoke in the wind. “He’s been goin’ on an’ on about that new grill o’ his sayin’ he wants us all over today.”

Dean nods, but doesn’t say anything. His shivering appears to have subsided now that the sun’s rays are on them and Richard’s glad for that, he was _this_ close to getting that blanket.

“We’re drivin’ out around noon-ish, me an’ Dean. Yer welcome to ride with us,” Aidan continues, bumping his shoulder affectionately against Dean’s when he mentions him. “He might’ve mentioned his wife’s bakin’ something, too.”

“I hope it’s brownies,” Dean mumbles and grins up at Aidan when he sends him a smile.

“Oh!” Aidan suddenly adds, like he’d forgotten about something and snaps his finger to catch Richard’s attention, who totally wasn’t looking at the two of them thinking they were the cutest thing he’s ever seen in his life.

Richard looks up and feigns innocence, luckily neither of them appears to have noticed him staring at their joined hands and touching shoulders. “What?”

“You probably already know, but he thought maybe you could pick up Lee at the airport at three since he’d be busy turning steaks and sausages on his new fancy grill,” he says. “But Dean an’ I could totally do it if you can’t, no problem.” Dean looks between them and nods; he’s the one whose car they would be using after all.

Then Richard feels a sudden stab of guilt for borrowing Dean’s car all the time since he’s one of the few Kiwis that brought his own car out there so he wouldn’t have to waste money on taxis and buses, but then he remembers how big his share of the expenses was last week and then he doesn’t feel bad about it anymore. He’ll still borrow his car though. It’s really convenient.

But then his mind finally catches up and he mouths ‘Lee’ before getting his voice to function again. “Lee’s coming today? But he wasn’t going to come back until next week,” he asks because for some damn reason he has the fucking date circled with a thick red line in the calendar that’s taped to his goddamn fridge. He was going to mentally prepare himself for Lee coming back because of reasons still unbeknownst to him – this whole Lee-thing and his reactions to anything about Lee is incredibly confusing – and maybe let someone else pick him up because he’s not sure what he’ll look like if he does see Lee Pace’s grinning face at an airport with lots of other people around to witness it.

Probably a tomato. The world’s tallest tomato.

“Yeah, Peter told us yesterday afternoon,” Dean speaks up and brings his free hand up to shield his eyes against the sun. His hair looks like it’s glowing now, and Richard knows Aidan would probably love to have a picture of Dean with the sunlight shining in his hair and odd shadows on his face.

“Oh, yeah, I remember now,” but he doesn’t, he just says that because he doesn’t want to look like someone who sits in his trailer all day and never hears about anything before it’s actually happening.

If Aidan and Dean knows he’s lying they’re kind enough to let it go unmentioned. “So? Are you gonna pick him up or d’you want us to do it?”

Just the fact that they’re both offering to pick up a guy they haven’t actually met warms Richard’s heart and he fights down the impulse to step closer and ruffle their hair and call them _A couple of adorable bastards_. “No, no, it’s-I’ll do it, no problem,” he says a moment later and sends them a smile for good measure.

The pair responds in kind and then they all just stand there like they’ve run out of topics to talk about, which really isn’t the case because Richard has a thousand things he’d like to discuss, but before he can say anything Dean nudges Aidan and tugs at his hand.

“So, we’re gonna be ready at eleven-thirty so just come by our trailer then. Or before, you know, whenever you’re ready,” Dean says and Aidan nods. Richard nods too and smiles at the implication of the two of them sharing a trailer, which they don’t; from what Richard understands Aidan had sort of moved into Dean’s when they found out his was bigger. By only a foot Richard reckons because they don’t look different at all to him, but maybe they just had to come up with another reason to live together – other than, you know.

Richard nods again and tells them he’ll come by then. “See you boys later,” he adds and gives them a wave as he climbs back up the three steps and opens the door.

“Aye, just knock if we’re not in the car,” Aidan smiles, makes a mock salute which has Richard chuckling, and drags Dean with him home to “their” trailer again.

There’s still a smile on his face when he closes the door behind him, but it soon falters when he realizes he got up at seven on his day off and then there’s the fact that in, he checks the time, _eight hours_ he’ll see Lee again and he doesn’t know how he feels about that.

In the end he decides to go to bed and sets his alarm to ten o’clock, giving him enough time to shower and find fresh clothes before heading over to Dean and Aidan’s.

*

Three and a half hours later he’s standing in front of Dean and Aidan’s trailer and he’s been knocking at the door for the past five minutes. Dean’s black BMW is standing there, empty, and he hears muffling and stumbling inside and he’s _losing his patience._

He knocks again, three hard ones that he’s sure they would hear even if they were drunk and sleeping. He hears a dull clash, like something has fallen to the floor, and a muffled yell. “Aidan? Dean? It’s time to go.”

This time the door does open and it’s a disheveled Aidan Turned in the process of buttoning his red plaid shirt that’s standing there.

Richard groans, “Seriously?”

Aidan blushes and tries to fix his hair, but it doesn’t help much, it still looks like a crow made a nest in there. “Sorry, lost track of time-,”

“Oh, Richard, hello again,” Dean comes over and ducks under Aidan’s outstretched arm, leaning against him. He looks like getting caught doing the dirty is an everyday occurrence and not embarrassing at all.

Richard gives them both a flat look, “Yes, and if you’re both done we should really get going.”

*

The drive takes forty-five minutes. Fifteen minutes longer than usual because Aidan forgot to fill the tank when he went shopping yesterday – for popcorn and soda, apparently. And then neither of them actually remembers the way to Jed’s house so Richard has to move himself to the middle seat in the back and lean forward so he can give directions because Dean said they’ll waste more time stopping and changing drivers. As if.

“Jed’s gonna fuckin’ grill _us_ if we’re not there soon,” Aidan says after a while, when Richard has led them in the right direction and they’re driving on a straight asphalt road with green rolling hills and thin birch forests all around them. Tall mountains with snowy peaks loom in the distance.

“No thanks to you,” Dean snorts and sniggers when Aidan hits him. “Ow! Darling, that hurt.”

“You hurt me first, ‘s not my fault I’m forgetful!”

“No, it’s your parents’, blame them.”

“Ha fuckin’ ha, and who forgot to turn off the stove the other day and had to go all the way back from _K Stage_ to find that it was indeed off after all,” Aidan snaps and throws his head back and laughs when Dean shoots him a glare.

Richard sighs and sits back in his seat and takes to admire the scenery instead.

“Hey, you mushroom, who was it that ‘dropped’ a read sock in the whites then?”

“Guys, could you-,” Richard tries when he’s tired of their banter, but neither of them hears him when Aidan speaks up again. Even if they _did_ hear him, they would probably ignore his complaints and carry on, he’s been with them long enough to know that.

“That was _one time_ and don’t tell me you’ve never done that,” Aidan complains, but there’s a tiny smile on his face that says he secretly loves to argue with Dean about this stuff. Richard sighs again, but this time it’s not as annoyed as it’s wistful, because he sort of wishes he had someone to have these kinds of moments with.

Dean grins, “I’ve never done that.”

Aidan huffs and pushes hair back behind his ears, “No, but you wore yer shirt inside-out a whole day and didn’t notice until you took if off again when you went to bed.”

“And I’m still not over that, Aidan, you coulda told me,” Dean mutters back, but his voice is soft and there’s a tiny smile tugging at his lips. He reaches across the seats and rests his hand on Aidan’s thigh. Two seconds later Aidan puts his hand on top of his and entwines their fingers.

“I thought it was cute,” Aidan chuckles a moment later, but this time Richard isn’t going to let Dean respond and continue this “game” of theirs, or whatever it is.

“Take a left here, Dean,” he says and gently prods at Dean’s shoulder to be sure that he heard him.

“Now I recognize this place, we just took another way last time,” Dean smiles and takes the left turn, driving out onto a dirt road lined on both sides by massive oaks.

“Hell no, you don’t, we’ve never even been here!” Aidan bursts out and then the whole thing starts up again.

“Yes, we have! Last year when the neighbor came over with the dog, remember?”

“That was at Stephen’s,” Aidan argues.

Richard puts his hand over his eyes and pretends he’s off somewhere else, someplace quiet and free of Aidan and Dean’s constant chirping. It was amusing when they first got together but at this point it’s on ‘giant fucking thorn in my side’-level.

-

They pull up at Jed’s house ten seconds later and Richard bolts out of the car the moment it’s stopped moving. Dean and Aidan climb out after him, still arguing about whether or not they’ve actually been here, and what kind of dog the neighbor brought over. Richard wants to tell them to shut up and discuss this somewhere only the two of them can actually hear it, but then he sees Jed coming out from behind the corner of his house with bright smile on his face.

“There you are, now we can get started,” he laughs and Richard cracks a smile because you can’t talk to Jed Brophy and _not_ smile. His somewhat ill mood is still pulsing somewhere under his skin though, but at least Aidan and Dean has shut their mouths now.

“Hullo,” Richard says and takes his hand, returning the friendly pat on the back when Jed brings him into a half-embrace and claps him on the shoulder. “Sorry we’re a bit late.”

Jed gives his wristwatch a glance, “Got lost, eh? ‘s no worries, mate. Now come on, everybody’s already here, we were just waiting for you.”

Richard nods and eyes all the cars in his driveway, a little surprised all of them got here with only three of them.

“We didn’t get lost!” Dean pipes up, but Jed has already disappeared behind the bright yellow corner of his house and into the garden. Aidan nudges him in the ribs, ignoring the pained yell from Dean, “You know, now I remember! Wasn’t it here that we played poker and we got Adam so drunk he barfed in the bush there?”

Dean’s eyebrows flies up and his mouth drops open, but he’s still smiling. “Yes! I’d forgotten about that; if I’d said that you woulda remembered it.”

Richard shakes his head and follows Jed through a small gate in the white picket fence surrounding his backyard. When he rounds the corner he spots the faces of all his fellow dwarves, Sir Ian McKellen and Martin Freeman. Jed’s wife was also there, sitting beside Mark Hadlow, who appears to have her immersed in one of his weird stories. Richard wonders what he’s talking about this time, because he’s always telling stories, and he briefly thinks about joining them, but then James Nesbitt shows up out of nowhere with a wide grin and a beer.

“Mornin’!” he says and holds out a pint. It’s this sort of strange New Zealand root beer thing that smells like flowers and taste like dirt, but Richard would be lying if he said he didn’t like it. But he’s a grown man who possesses some sense so he’s not going to accept it.

“Morning indeed,” Richard mutters and eyes the drink. “It’s not even noon, Jimmy.”

James shrugs, “It’s five o’clock somewhere, ain’t that what they say? Anyhow where are the lads,” he asks and looks around, taking a sip of his own drink as his eyes wanders about in search of Dean and Aidan, like he’s somehow worried about them getting lost; the concern is not born out of nothing, but that’s a long story for another time.

Richard jerks a thumb over his shoulder, towards the lot housing now four cars, “Back there, I reckon,” he says and sighs, but can’t help but smile when he thinks about them; they’re like two hyperactive children who were made for each other. He knows he wouldn’t be surprised either if he found them using the swing Jed had sat up for his own kids.

“Oh,” James says and raises his eyebrows suggestively, “Wonder what they’re doin’ back there.”

“Arguing about what kind of trees they’re surrounded by, or whose fault it was that Aidan’s yellow t-shirt went missing the other day. I don’t know,” he adds when James gives him this sideway look that makes Richard worry about what his friend is really thinking.

After a beat James cracks a smile and gives him a friendly pat on the shoulder, “Aye, they will purposefully disagree about anythin’. Just to annoy us, I bet.”

Richard huffs and wishes he had a drink in his hand right now just for the sake of doing something, feeling awkward about just standing there with his hands at his sides like he’s not comfortable at all. “That was my thinking, they couldn’t stop bantering the whole way in, I thought I was gonna have to strangle them both before we got here just for some peace and quiet.”

James laughs at that, a deep hearty one that tells Richard he isn’t that far from slapping his thighs. Richard huffs even though it wasn’t that funny, not wanting to look like he doesn’t know how to have fun. Which he _does_ ; he does know how to have fun, it’s just that that his idea of a good time involves a few close friends, good food and wine, catching up and playing charades in the living room in front of a fireplace.

“Aye, well come over here then, Jed’s done with the steaks soon and she brought out a basket o’ buns just now,” James says and winks before strolling back to the three large tables occupied by the rest of the cast, referring to Jed’s wife, Margaret, who’s still chatting with Mark.

“Yeah,” Richard nods and goes to follow, but then turns back to look for Aidan and Dean out of habit and smiles at them when they finally round the corner. He’s about to walk over and say _Hi_ to the rest of the guys when he notices the bag in Aidan’s hand.

“What’ve you got in there?” he asks and gestures towards a plastic bag that might be a bit too full; it looks like it won’t take much for the whole thing to tear.

Dean shrugs and answers, “Just something to drink. You’ve said you’re not too fond of beer so we went out and got some wine instead, I hope _Merlot’_ s okay.”

Richard just nods and realizes he’s actually in a bit of a shock at his two “nephews” for actually remembering his distaste for beer and taking that into consideration, “T-thank you, that’s great. Wonderful.”

“And some _Guinness_ for me,” Aidan shoots in with a small smile accompanied by dimples and eye-crinkles, “You’re welcome to have one, it’s quite a few in there.”

“Thank you, but no, the wine’s enough for me. Thank you,” Richard holds up his hands and can’t stop smiling because watching these two now, standing in front of him, side by side, and offering him _wine_ and smiling and saying he can borrow Dean’s car to get Lee at the airport, makes him realize that he’s not even the slightest bit mad at them for nagging at each other the whole way in. In fact, he might’ve also just forgiven them for everything they’ve ever done to annoy him.

“Alright,” they say and then walk together with Richard over to the rest of the guys, who all goes ‘Oi, look who came!’ and ‘I hope there’s some decent brew in that bag o’ yers, Aidan!’ that one was Graham, the loudest of the bunch, and when Aidan produced a _Guinness_ from his bag along with a bottle of white wine he cheered the loudest too.

The next three hours consisted of bad jokes – that was mostly Richard's doing and that’s why he only told _one_ – eating, drinking and people being loud.

It’s a bit after two-thirty that Dean checks his watch and tells Richard he should’ve maybe headed off five minutes ago.

“What-what’s up, lads?” James asks when Dean and Richard both stand up from their chairs and leave the table, Dean giving Aidan a kiss on the cheek before walking with Richard over to his car.

“Richard’s pickin’ Lee up from the airport,” Richard hears Aidan mumble with his mouth full of food. He contemplates walking back to tell Aidan that talking with your mouth full is bad manners, but he’s already running late. He intends to be there waiting for Lee and watch him walk towards him through a sea of people, smiling, and … and … what is that even about.

He takes the keys with a smile and a nod when Dean hands them to him, hops into the car and starts it. Muttering to himself as he backs out of the driveway he resolves that he’s feeling this way because he missed Lee while he was away and that it’ll be awesome seeing him again. Because it wouldn’t be logical if it was anything other than that, right?

Right. So he’s been missing Lee and looked forward to having him back on set and it’s not at all different from missing having Adam around when he’s sick, or that one time Graham couldn’t make it that time they were all going hiking together. Even the days when Aidan and Dean, or one of them, aren’t there everything seems incredibly dull and boring and _not as it should be_.

Richard thinks it’s been that way for him since the very first time he met Lee. He wasn’t there for more than a month, but still, Lee has felt like an essential part of _everything_ since Richard first laid eyes on him and now that he’s coming back it’s like a long lost piece of a puzzle is finally about fall into place. And now Richard can’t help but feel stupid for being so giddy over it.

After a moment he decides he’s done thinking about it and puts on first CD he finds, not bothering to check what it actually is since he pretty much doesn’t care at this point. _Don’t Bring Me Down_ by _Electric Light Orchestra_ starts cooing through the small, almost ancient, speakers in Dean’s equally old car.

Richard blinks and shrugs, thinking he has given Dean’s music taste too little credit and vows to compliment him on it sometime. He turns the volume up and taps the wheel as he flies past green meadows and green trees and back into the city.

The next song that comes on is decidedly _not_ ELO, but something more upbeat and summer-y that he has to ask Dean about later because this is really, really good. He starts singing along after the first chorus and is glad no one is there to witness him behaving like this, nervously tapping the wheel, singing the wrong words of a great song, out of tune, and almost breaking a sweat because he’s so excited.

Luckily, the airport isn’t more than ten minutes away from Jed’s place, which means Richard arrives in good time to find out which gate Lee’s going to come out of. He’s familiar with airports so it doesn’t take long for him to locate it.

There are lots of people around him; small children, old ladies, middle-aged men in suits carrying suitcases and using Bluetooth instead of cellphones. Richard isn’t very fond of those. There’s a little girl to the left of him with an old teddy bear in her hands that’s almost as big as her, with only one eye and a leg hanging off by thick black threads, telling him that someone’s sewed it back on.

He smiles at her outstretched neck like she’s trying to spot someone coming from far off and her pigtails flopping about when she can’t stand still. He figures she’s waiting for someone who’s been away for a long time. Perhaps her father, or mother, or maybe an older sibling.

He keeps watching her and doesn’t hear someone calling his name until that someone is two feet away from him and still advancing. He only gets the time to mutter ‘Lee’ as he brings up one hand, intending to shake the other’s, but then he finds himself, rather suddenly and completely unexpectedly, with an armful of Lee Pace, who’s got his own arms wound about Richard’s neck.

After a couple of seconds, when a normal person would’ve let go, he returns the awkward embrace and laughs into Lee’s hair. He pats his back a couple of times and lets out a breath he feels he’s been holding in for the past seven months.

They hold each other for a couple more seconds and just when Richard starts thinking people are looking at them weird does Lee let go and takes a step back. Richard’s arms fall back down to his sides; Lee picks his bag back up, one hand going up to hold onto on strap of his backpack. There’s another larger bag just behind him and luckily that one has wheels.

“Hello, Richard,” Lee says and runs a hand through his ruffled up hair, his lips curling into that shy smile of his that Richard finds he actually kind of likes. A lot.

“Hi,” Richard and feels his own lips forming a smile and hopes he isn’t grinning too wide. “Everything good? You know, the travel and all. It’s quite a long time to be confined to a small seat 10,000 feet up in the air,” and now he’s babbling and he can’t stop, but Lee’s still smiling at him so Richard has a feeling he doesn’t mind much. He would still like his mouth to stop when his brain tells it to, though.

“I’ll take some of your luggage, no problem. The car’s just around the corner here, borrowed Dean’s. Who’s at Jed’s by the way, we’re going straight up there since they’ve kind of planned this whole barbeque-thing. I didn’t know about it before this morning, actually,” Richard talks, his mouth running on autopilot, like it feels it has to tell Lee about everything he’s missed while he was gone. And Richard wouldn’t mind that; he’d love telling Lee about the weight of his costume, and the wonderful sunsets he gets to see every morning, and Dean and Aidan’s bickering, James’ dirty jokes and Martin’s crazy king fu-thing, but then they’d have to sit down and have hours to spare and he really hopes that might happen some day.

He stops himself when he feels like he’s already chatting too much, but when he glances over at Lee he doesn’t appear to be annoyed by it at all. On the contrary he looks so pleased and _happy_ that Richard almost wants to hug him again. Instead he nudges his shoulder and gets a better grip on the handle of the suitcase with wheels - the wheelcase; he grins despite himself before focusing on a story about a little mishap of Lee’s at the airport back in the states.

“So there I was, just having bought one of those _Starbucks_ -coffees, I don’t know what it was, forgot the name, and then I must’ve looked down at my phone or something and missed the _Wet Floor-_ sign because suddenly I’m on my ass in the middle of one of the busiest airport in the United States and my new shirt is soaked with coffee.”

Richard smiles. “Good thing you brought an extra change of clothes,” he says dryly and then immediately regrets saying anything at all, wishing he’d spared Lee of his incredibly dry humour.

Lee doesn’t seem to mind and Richard’s starting to suspect that it is a primary aspect of his personality; that he’s so good-natured and kind and _happy_ with everything, that he doesn’t mind when people tell shitty jokes and acts like assholes sometimes because he’s somehow found a way to keep himself above all that.

As Richard thinks this he glances over at the side of Lee’s face, sees the round apples of his cheeks as he smiles, and knows that he’s got to be one of the most beautiful people he’s ever seen.

He’s jerked out of his thoughts when Lee laughs and it’s sincere and it sounds _weird_ in a wonderful way and it makes Richard chuckle himself. “Yeah, I had to ask this little old lady to look after my bags so I could go change.”

“How’d that go?”

Lee turned towards him again and his eyebrows were raised just slightly and his smile looked like it belonged on a small child, not a man who’s passed thirty. “She took one look at me and went ‘my dear boy, of course I will, now go change before you catch a cold!’ She was really nice and I said thank you and opened my bag to find a clean shirt.”

They were halfway through the parking lot now and Dean’s old BMW was visible in the farthest corner of it. Richard didn’t say anything as he waited of Lee to continue.

“I put my bags down beside her and she could basically see everything I had in there, suddenly she said ‘oh, that’s a lovely shirt. I’m sure your special someone would love you in that’ and I didn’t know what to say or do so I just smiled, thanked her again and went to put it on.” He looks down at his black argyle sweater with grey patterns; there’s a simple white t-shirt underneath it.

Richard thinks the outfit suites him very well. “Good choice,” he says and tries not to blush at the words, because they might sound normal and platonic and not suggestive in Lee’s ears, but all Richard hears himself is _I find you attractive_ , which is completely true and to his own surprise he’s not freaked out by thinking that about another man. He’s way past the stage of freaking out by feeling one’s sexuality change anyway; he’s found it’s best to just _let_ at this point.

“Here’s the car,” he informs uselessly when they’re standing right by it, having halted, and pushes the handle back down on the case he was rolling while Lee gratefully puts his other giant bag down, sighing when the weight of it is finally off his shoulders.

“So we’re going to Jed’s, was it?” Lee asks and helps Richard heft the heavy luggage into the boot of the car. It’s just a bit too tiny to fit everything so Lee throws his backpack into the backseat.

“Yes. And I don’t think we’ll go back to Wellington before tonight – those of us who’ve got trailers, so I hope you don’t mind,” Richard says and closes the boot. “But if you do want to go to your trailer and unpack I could drive you, no problem at all, it’s just a twenty-to-thirty minute drive.”

Lee laughs and shakes his head, “No, it’s fine, I don’t mind at all. I need to get to know these guys too and I can’t think of a better way to do that than a grill party.”

Richard just grins at him at starts the car.

*

It’s not until later in the afternoon, when they’ve eaten and had good drinks and told jokes, Lee has mingled, said _Hi_ and chatted with everyone, that they all finally go inside. Jed has this huge lounge in his guesthouse with a giant fireplace and a ceiling of dark wooden beams. His wife, Margaret, must’ve walked in there before they came in and set alight candles, they were in every windowsill and in the middle of tables. There were several on top of the fireplace.

“Wow,” was on everybody’s lips as they came in and looked around. The sky was darkening outside, but still seemed as if it couldn’t have been brighter in the room if they’d turned the switch.

Dean, Aidan and Adam all pushes through the rest of the cast blocking the door and immediately goes for the two giant couches. Graham takes Stephen and James with him over to the bar area, quickly followed by Jed. The rest of them scatter around, looks at pictures and tries out the couch, admires the old furniture and the dark wood of the bar counter.

Lee and Richard are left by the door, watching as the others start talking and laughing and dividing into small groups that will keep changing throughout the evening.

Adam appears to have found a deck of cards and not long after there’s a poker match going at the coffee table in the middle of the room, to which more and more eager players joins in. Jed’s found a poker set and soon there’s yelling and harsh laughter and they’re all drinking Whiskey that’s older than Adam.

The only ones who aren’t playing are Richard and Lee, and a small group of five over by the small television set by the bar where there’s a soccer match on.

“You want to play? I think you could jump in on the next round,” Richard asks and takes to walk slowly into the rest of the room. He closes the door behind them not wanting any insects to come in during the night and can’t help but smile when Lee stays close to him, like he’s a bit unsure of how to act around all the others. Richard figures it makes sense, Lee doesn’t know them, and knows he would be doing the same thing if it was the other way around.

They’re so close now that he feels Lee shrugging as opposed to seeing it, “Nah. I’m not much of a poker fan. What about you? Just go ahead and join them, I could just watch ‘s not a problem.”

“No, no, I’m not much for poker either.”

They sit down on the stone of the fireplace that’s been made into a sort of bench. The heat at his back feels good after being outside in the slight chill pretty much the entire day. They sit close together, shoulders, thighs and hips touching, even though there’s plenty of room. Richard reckons six grown men could sit here and still be comfortable, it’s _that_ big.

The poker game is almost at the far end of the room, away from the pair at the fireplace, but still they can hear every word they’re saying. Well, not every word. Most of the time there’s at least four people talking all at once and there’s _Boo_ ’s and _Aaaah’_ s from those watching the match on TV.

From what Richard understands after having watched the poker table for a while is that Aidan and Dean have teamed up and he thinks that might be cheating because they keep switching cards under the table.

Richard shakes his head and smiles.

Lee and Richard keep watching them in silence and they both try not to laugh too loud when Graham loses another round and looks like the biggest sulking baby they’ve ever seen. He’s worse at losing than William, which says something.

Aidan and Dean have won most rounds and he’s starting to wonder when the others are going to see the sly smiles they keep sending each other.

“I don’t think Aidan and Dean are playing by the rules,” Lee leans over and whispers not long after and Richard’s eyebrows goes up in mild surprise because he thought he was the only one who noticed.

“Strictly speaking they never play by the rules,” he leans in and whispers back, not quite managing to keep the laugh out of his voice.

“You think the others would’ve noticed, they’re not exactly being subtle,” Lee says back, his shoulder leaning a bit more heavily into Richard’s in a way that makes Richard think that maybe this whole attraction thing isn’t as one-sided as he first thought.

“Frankly, I don’t think they know there’s something called subtlety,” he answers, and thinks back to when they first starting seeing each other and their shocked faces when they eventually came out to the rest as a couple, and saw that nobody was surprised at all.

Lee’s only response is a laugh and Richard can’t keep himself from turning his head to look at him. His cheeks are round and tinged pink and there’s just the tiniest hint of dimples on them. Richard can’t really be blamed for doing what he does next and is pleasantly surprised when it doesn’t get rejected or brushed off.

He reaches over and puts his hand over Lee’s where it’s resting on top of his thigh, and tightens his hold when Lee doesn’t move it away. Then there’s a small spark of fear in his chest that says he shouldn’t have done that. His eyes are trained on the floor somewhere near his feet.

The bad feeling spreads up his throat and down his stomach where it settles heavily and he’s just about to remove his hand and apologize profusely when Lee’s thumb moves out from underneath Richard’s hand and settles on top of it instead.

Richard’s almost afraid of what he’s going to see if he looks up at Lee’s face; will it be closed off, pity in his eyes, a sad smile on his lips?

In the end it’s Lee that can’t take the silence between them anymore. “Hey,” he says and there’s a smile in his voice and when Richard actually does turn to look at him his lips are forming the biggest grin he’s seen on him yet. Lee gives Richard’s hand a gentle squeeze, as if to show that he really doesn’t mind, that maybe he likes it. Richard hopes Lee likes it because he likes this a whole lot.

“Hey,” Richard mumbles back and feels a tiny smile tug at his own lips.

Lee continues to smile at him, his cheeks looking redder than they did a minute ago; Richard suspects his own face is the colour of a tomato as well, but he doesn’t care because he’s holding the hand of his new favorite person.

-

They don’t let go of each other until Dean and Aidan stands up from the table and announces with tired, but happy voices they’re going home. Five others – Ian, Martin, Stephen, William and Mark – goes up with them and thanks Jed and his wife for a lovely day.

Richard lets go of Lee’s hand once they’re standing, but not without giving it another squeeze first. Lee smiles and ducks his head, scratching the back of his neck and raising his shoulders, reminding Richard of how he played Ned in _Pushing Daisies._ Another work of Lee’s he got around to watch after Lee went home over half a year ago. 

“You ridin’ with us?” Aidan asks around a tired smile once he and Dean have reached Richard and Lee, still standing in front of the fireplace. There are only embers on the fire now since everyone pretty much forgot to feed it.

“Yes,” Richard says and can’t help but fix the couple with a stern look. It’s supposed to look stern, but he’s still sort of smiling so it doesn’t have the desired effect. “I take it you boys won?”

Dean, at least, has the decency to look slightly guilty. Aidan on the other hand grins wider and throws an arm around Dean’s waist. “Aye! Ya shoulda seen Graham’s face when he went all-in a while back. Nailed him.”

At that moment none other than Graham McTavish and William Kircher walks past them, sending them both glares, Graham growling, “I’m on to you, lads! No one wins that much without cheatin’!” before William mutters, “Next time,” before he heads out the door with Graham.

This time Aidan winces and shrugs, but there’s still a smile playing on his lips like he’s still convinced nobody knows of his and Dean’s “teamwork”.

“Let’s go home, yeah?” Richard says then when he sees how truly tired Aidan looks, and it’s no wonder, he has spent several hours running around the garden with Jed’s children and then he and Dean mysteriously disappeared about an hour ago, and when they came back in no one had no wonder what they’d been up to.

“Yeah,” Dean answers for him and tugs Aidan out the door by the hand. Lee and Richard share a smile and follows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you're wondering what the other song richard's listening to in the car is, it's 'The Oslo Bowl' by Bigbang.  
> it's awesome, go listen to it


	3. kiss

[(pinterest page for richard's apartment)](http://pinterest.com/bombursbutt/finding-home-richlee/)

 

It’s been only a few days over a week since Jed’s grill-party when Richard comes to the realisation that he might actually be in love with Lee. True, he always thought there was something other than mere attraction; a strong feeling of friendship, perhaps, or something a little deeper than that. Never did he imagine it to be so much more than that.

People always say that when someone realizes they’re in love it’s like a kick; an electric current coursing through your body and although that instant shock only lasts a second the aftershocks will continue to flutter about inside of you for an indefinite period of time, and all you can do about that is hope it never stops fluttering.

Richard’s always been told that he’ll know when he falls for someone; _oh, you’ll know, there’s no feeling like it._ Maybe that’s why he never realized it until now - that he began falling for Lee when they sat together in the cafeteria seven months ago and talked about prosthetic ears and costumes and watched Joe, Jamie and Paul struggle with the giant pig – perhaps the epiphany never came because he has been waiting for his knees to buckle and his heart to skip every other beat ever since their first meeting.

 _What a load of bollocks_ , he thinks and decides he’ll never listen to his mother and sister, and any others of his love-at-first-sight borderline-superstitious friends again because that sort of thing doesn’t happen to people. Not really.

In real life it feels like there are a hundred tiny butterflies in your stomach and you can’t stop smiling and your heart thumps a tiny bit harder just thinking about that other person and sometimes your hands shake and it takes a long while before they stop. It’s not a life-altering experience that leaves you unable to walk, that’s what Richard convinces himself, anyhow. Still though, he can’t stop the disappointment in knowing that he didn’t get struck by a metaphorical lightning bolt the first time he met Lee Pace.

When he eventually realizes that his feelings for Lee struck a little deeper than he first thought his heart feels as if it’s split into two, and more than anything he wants to run away, but have Lee in his arms, too, and it’s all just really confusing and almost horrible. Telling Lee would probably be the best, but then he has to actually walk over to him and _tell him_ that ‘hey, I’m sort of in love with you, please love me too’, and Richard still isn’t quite sure if he wants to do that yet. Soon, though, but not too soon.

It happens as he’s walking home one evening after having his prosthetics and costume taken off, with the chilly and wonderful New Zealand air playing with his open jacket and the gravel crunching beneath his worn boots. The sun is already setting, painting the clouds a shimmering clear red and bathing the entirety of Wellington in a soft purple light. It hasn’t been this clear out since that morning Dean and Aidan’s sudden presence nearly knocked him over, so Richard slows down and admires the strong scent of spring in the air and how the buildings around him looks like they’re painted a light purple.

He is ten strides away from his trailer when he stops short as if a memory he thought was long lost has just returned to him, and in one way it was, and yet it wasn’t like that at all. More like finding something, a thought, or a word, that he has been trying to remember for so long that he had forgotten he was looking for it in the first place.

He stops and it’s right next to Lee’s trailer. He looks at it, reads the name written on the sign – _LEE PACE -_ more times than he cares to count, then turns his gaze towards his own trailer. It’s no more than eight meters away, but some part of him doesn’t want to make it over there. He thinks about what could happen if he opens Lee’s door, cups his soft cheeks with his hands and kisses him. How would Lee react? Lee would kiss him back, surely. Possibly. Maybe. There’s a _slight_ chance that Lee would kiss him back.

And that’s why he starts walking again, heart hammering in his chest like it wants to jump right out of it, hands shaking like he’s witnessed a train crash, and he doesn’t stop until he falls face first onto his own bed; jacket is still on, but his shoes could be anywhere seeing as he kicked them off once he got inside.

He is lulled to sleep by the soft shoes-hitting-gravel sound of crew members still walking about outside. He’s too tired to think about Lee, and what he should do about it, and what could happen if he actually _does_ anything about it.

*

It takes another week before Richard decides that maybe he should do something and since he doesn’t feel too good about the idea of walking straight up to Lee and _talking to him_ or _kissing him_ because for some reason this scares the shit out of him, he decides to have a chat with Ian instead, certain that if someone can help him with this it has got to be Gandalf.

Aidan and Dean are his last resorts and he hopes it never comes to him having to ask _them_ because _they_ are not the kind of people whose advice you’d want about something like this. It doesn’t even matter that they are, or was, in the same position as Richard, because the two of them are so full of bad jokes and worse advice that Richard will forever be amazed that they even managed to get together all by themselves in the first place.

It’s on a Monday afternoon and they’re on location, all gathered on a great range overgrown with orange ferns and thorny bushes; a line of snow-peaked mountains crowns the horizon with Aoraki, or Mount Cook, looming tall above the rest.

Richard decides, after a very long internal debate, to seek out Ian and talk to him and perhaps get a better idea of what the hell he should do, because it is already paining him not doing anything at all.

He finds Ian sitting on a large rock a bit away from the others, reading a book, dressed as Gandalf which is all too fitting, really, seeing as Richard is coming to him for counsel.

Ian looks up from his book when Richard approaches; he can’t see what the title is, though it’s a cover he’s seen before. Folding the top corner of the page, Ian closes it and puts it down beside him, turning towards Richard with a friendly smile on his lips.

“Well, if it isn’t Thorin Oakenshield,” he laughs, his voice still growly from talking like Gandalf. He rises from his seat on the flat rock and folds his hands and smiles, as he had a habit of doing. “What can I do for you?” trust he knows there is something Richard needs; people seldom come up to him alone unless there is anything they are in need of.

“Ah,” Richard says and feels his face heat up. He looks down at his boots and fiddles nervously with the fur on Thorin’s coat, feeling embarrassed now all of a sudden at the thought of telling Ian what’s going on inside his head. “I sort of … need something.”

Ian searches his face thoughtfully and then nods, slowly, as if he has an idea of what it is Richard needs help with. “A-ha. Well, I shall do everything in my power to help you, of course. Unless ‘tis going to cost me greatly,” he hastily adds before cracking a smile again and laughing.

Richard laughs too, grateful for Ian’s ability to make people at ease, even when they’re as nervous as Richard is right now. “Right, well, it’s not going to cost you much of anything,” he says and feels himself unable to tone down his smile, even though he feels as if he should be sitting down and shaking instead. “The only price would be a piece of your mind, to be honest. Advice.”

“Advice?”

Richard nods solemnly and feels the smile fall from his face. “Yes.”

Ian looks at him closer this time, not saying anything until he sits back down on his rock. He pads the space next to him. “I have a feeling this-,” he grunts, “-is something that’s been weighing heavily on your mind of late.”

Wondering if everyone is able to read him as well as Ian, Richard furrows his brows and joins him on the sun-warmed flat stone. He nods again, not trusting himself to speak fearing everything might come spilling out at once if he opens his mouth.

There is a long moment of silence as they sit together, Ian half turned towards Richard, studying him almost, like he’s looking for visual clues for help since Richard never says anything. At length he speaks and his voice is soft, “I assume this is just as much about you as it is about someone else.”

Richard clears his throat and contemplates praising Ian for his keen sight because, surely, he must be the only one who has caught this. If anyone were to find out about it, of course it had to be Ian.

“What do you want me to do?” Ian asks slowly, his voice still friendly and reassuring as if he is talking to a child or someone who should hear every single word clear as day to be able to understand them.

“I need your help,” Richard says at last and turns enough to face Ian, forcing forth a smile he hopes looks sincere. When Ian nods and gestures for him to carry on, he continues, “I, bloody hell, this might sound incredibly stupid, but … I think,” he stops himself and turns to look at the mountains instead.

It’s like they are glowing blue in the distance, their peaks like shining lights as the sun reflects off the snow. The sky is clear and there is no wind, yet Richard feels all too much like there’s a storm happening – just that it’s inside of him and not out here.

“Yes?” Ian prompts, ever patient. “What do you need?”

“A bit of bravery would be nice. Make that a lot,” Richard mutters, scratching his arm absentmindedly.  They took his prosthetic hands off a while ago when their break started since the crew needed to set up some camera equipment. There are at least twenty of them about thirty paces from where Richard and Ian are sitting; all jogging and running around, putting together rails on the dry ground for the different cameras they’d be using.

“Bravery?” Ian echoes and laughs, but the sound is not cheerful; he sounds worried now all of a sudden. “Are you not brave, Richard?”

Richard huffs and shakes his head. “Not about this, no.”

Ian regards him for a moment before adjusting himself on the rock. “Are you afraid?” it sounds like he is almost doesn’t dare ask, as if he knows what the answer will be and that he won’t like it. Richard half expects him to start puffing on his pipe and send blue and green smoke-rings up in the air.

Richard’s only response is a nod.

“ _’Don’t be afraid of your fears. They’re not there to scare you. They’re there to let you know that something is worth it.’_ I read that someplace once, but I cannot remember where, nor who’s words they were.” Ian looks long and hard at Richard when he has finished speaking and fiddles with the grey fabric of Gandalf’s cloak.

Then Ian too looks up and follows the busy crewmen’s movements. They’re almost done setting up the rails now. Peter is standing there in his vest, holding a cup of tea in his hand as he watches them work and gives them instructions.

“Is it not worth it, Richard? Are you not afraid because you are hopeful, because there is a chance?”

“Yes,” Richard mumbles and thinks about Lee’s smile when he picked him up at the airport, and when they held hands, though only for a short while, at Jed’s grill-party. Damn right it’s worth it.

He can see Ian nod from the corner of his eye. “Would you mind telling me just what it is you’re afraid of?”

Richard blinks and thinks about it for a moment. What is he afraid of? Him having read all the signs wrong and thinking Lee is interested, and then finding out that he isn’t after all? “I’m not sure exactly. Haven’t really thought about it,” he lies and instantly feels bad about it. What was he thinking – lying through his teeth right up in Sir Ian McKellen’s face?

He’s about to correct himself when Ian speaks, and if he knows about the lie he’s kind enough to not say anything about it. “For not knowing what to say, or do, for that matter; or rejection?”

Richard nods, “Yes.”

“Yes, what? The first one or the second one?”

“Both of them, I think.” _And about three hundred more._

“Ah,” Ian hums, straightening his back like he’s been sitting still for too long already. Richard is starting to feel restless now, too, eager to continue shooting and get his mind off this. “Well, would it help if I told you that your fear is born out of nothing?” he asks. “Would you still be afraid if I smiled and laughed and _assured_ you that you really do have nothing to worry about?”

Richard isn’t sure what he thinks, but there’s something about the way Ian says it, like he somehow knows just what it is that’s gnawing at Richard so intensely. He isn’t even surprised that Ian knows, not really. “I don’t think so. Maybe. Yes.”

This time Ian’s laugh is sincere as he puts an arm on Richard’s shoulder, “Because you do have nothing to be afraid of. Not the slightest.”

He knows. He definitely knows. “How can you be so sure?” Richard asks and feels like he’s going to need a handwritten confession of love from Lee Pace himself in order to believe it.

The arm disappears from his shoulder and Ian huffs as he raps Richard in the ribs instead. “Well, I’m not blind, my dear boy, am I?”

Afraid he might’ve just offended him deeply in some sort of way, Richard tries to apologize, “N-, I’m-,”

“Now get off my rock and go get him; be afraid,” Ian says sternly and all but pushes Richard off the stone. “And then feel silly about it afterwards,” he adds, when Richard has already started to walk away, around a merry laugh making Richard smile and chuckle as well.

Ian winks at him as he picks his book back up. Richard nods back in gratitude.

*

He thinks about bravery and stupidity, and if there is a difference between the two, for a week and decides he’s still short of it. He feels weak, not only mentally, but physically, too, like the rapid beating of his heart and his shaking hands has worn him out to the point of exhaustion.

And Lee still doesn’t know because Richard is too much of a pantywaist to do anything about it. Ian’s advice helped, it’s not that it didn’t, but it’s much easier to _think_ you’re going to do something than to actually _do it_ when the time comes.

He has run into Lee a couple of times and every time he sees him Richard thinks _this is it, I’m going to tell him_ , but then a heavy feeling settles in his chest and spreads through his body and traps him, making him unable to do much of anything.

He has _tried_ , of course he’s tried. He tries all the time, but every time he could’ve done something this ugly feeling stops him, slides a cold hard hand around his neck, tightens, and holds him back. It’s tiring and by the end of the third day he feels like he’s been running 500 miles without pause, and knowing there are still 500 more to go.

He’s exhausted and, as he’s sipping at a cup of tea in the cafeteria, he yields and decides that asking Dean and Aidan about what he should do can’t be such a bad idea after all.

He finds them during their lunch break and sits down at their table. He still isn’t quite sure what exactly to ask them because he wants to keep as much of this thing for himself for as long as he possibly can and hopes Aidan and Dean’s eyes aren’t as keen as Ian’s.

Sitting down opposite of them he opens his mouth to talk only to find them busy chatting with each other about something Richard has no idea what is, tapping on the phone in Dean’s hands. They are huddled close together, so close that at first glance he thought they were sitting on the same chair.

“No, I told you, yer not supposed to turn it that way, here, look-,”

“Aidan, shut up, can’t you see I’m doing it right?”

“You hafta do it this way. See, now you lost another red one.”

“Only because you’re distracting me with all your rules, now how do I start over again?”

Richard shuts his eyes and places his elbows on the table in front of him. He rests his head in his hands and tries not to laugh, or vocalize how thoroughly annoyed he is with them for not even acknowledging his presence. Then he tries not to think about how those two feelings seems to be his primary reactions whenever he’s around them.

They are playing _Angry Birds,_ he learns two seconds later, and talking and snapping at each other, reminding Richard of how a kitten and a puppy would never stop pestering one another. They’re both grown men and still they’re so fucking adorable it’s infuriating, because thinking something is cute makes it that much harder to be mad at it. Richard has long since stopped trying to figure out how they do it.

He sits there for another minute and pretends he’s drinking tea and not watching them, not that it would matter anyway because it seems as if neither of them actually knows he’s there. It doesn’t take long before he feels compelled to voice his presence and chooses the moment when Dean appears to have lost another round and Aidan wants his phone back.

“Boys,” he says and tries not to feel like he’s their uncle scolding them, or something of the sort, but it’s too late. Much too late; he’s been their uncle for over half a year now and he’s got a feeling that’s never going to end.

Aidan and Dean both look up at the same time, briefly throwing Richard off, raising their eyebrows. They’re so synchronized sometimes it’s scary and the worst part is that it appears to have evolved naturally between them. It’s like they took on and learned each other’s mannerisms to the point where they could be the same person, just split up into two bodies.

“Yes?” Aidan asks when Richard hasn’t said anything, too busy frowning and wondering how two people can fit together that well when they’ve only known each other for such a relatively short time. If he didn’t know any better he’d say they were soul mates - if there ever was such a thing. Richard didn’t believe in that sort of alternative-y, spiritual thing before, or any other thing for that matter, but he has to admit that after seeing Aidan and Dean together the idea that some people are meant to be together doesn’t seem so farfetched after all.

Richard sits up in his chair and fondles with his empty cup just to have something to do. “Hi, yes, I was just wondering, uhm,” he stops himself and swallows thickly, feeling his heart doing that thing again where it beats too hard and too fast in his chest. What should he tell them, and what the hell should he ask?

“Is something wrong, Richard?” Dean asks and sits up, resting his arms on the table in front of him. He looks worried. The expression doesn’t suit him, Richard thinks, and now he wants to replace it with that dimpled smile as soon as possible.

“No, nothing’s wrong, I just need some help,” he replies and goes for his neutral, everything-is-absolutely-fine voice. It appears to be working; Dean cracks a small smile and leans back in his chair. “I just need some, uh, advice?”

Aidan’s eyebrows furrows. “Advice? From us?” he echoes, gesturing between himself and Dean, sounding as surprised at Richard for asking as Richard himself is. This must be the first time someone has actually gone to them for help of their own free will. He should get a medal for this.

Richard nods and scratches the back of his neck, trying to find the best way to phrase his question without giving too much away. “Yes, I need some help with … something.”

Aidan and Dean are both silent for a moment before Aidan speaks, “What kind of something?”

“A very recent something.” Well, recent and recent. And should he stop calling his feelings for Lee a ‘something’? He knows exactly what its name is, so why not just call it for what it is?

“A big something?” Dean enquires.

Richard clears his throat, “I-, yes. It could be a very big something.”

“Could?” Dean says and he doesn’t sound as clueless as he did ten seconds ago, he even has that same glint in his eyes as Ian did. Richard feels terrified even though he knows he has no reason to be; they’re all his friends here and he was the one who brought it up after all.

“This _something_ ,” ponders Aidan and the way he says it makes Richard regret he decided it was a good idea to ask these two in the first place. Why, why didn’t he go to his trailer and sleep as was his initial plan, instead of making people aware that there’s something going on?

“Does it all depend what you do?” he finishes.

“I don’t know,” Richard mutters back and wished he knew.

The couple on the other side of the table then take a long pause to stare at him with a mixture of disapproval and faint fascination, and it’s incredibly unsettling seeing as they’re usually the ones on the receiving end of that look. “D’you want it to be a something that _coulda_ happened - in which case you’ll regret it for the rest of yer life,” Aidan eventually says with a shrug and throws his arm over the back of Dean’s chair.

Richard wants to slap him over the head for being so casual about this, but refrains, opting to nudge Kili a bit harder in the ribs during their shoot later this afternoon instead.

“Or do you want to make this the best something that ever happened to you?” Aidan finishes and, yeah, he definitely knows which means Dean must know, too. Those bastards. Does anything ever go unnoticed in this place?

“How long’ve you known?” Richard decides to ask when he’s over the initial shock of his big secret not being so secret after all. He hopes no one else knows, especially Martin. If Martin knew he wouldn’t waste time telling Lee about it, which would made everything worse. Or better. But he thinks ‘worse’ is more probable.

Dean has the decency to look slightly sheepish, “A couple o’ weeks, I think. We can see how you look at him, Richard and believe it or not, but Lee looks at you the same way. You’re both just waiting for the other to make the first move, and I’m sorry for saying this, but we’re so bloody sick of seeing you two pine after each other like that-,”

“I don’t _pine_ ,” Richard throws in and hates knowing that it’s true. Then, oh shit, how many people actually know this?

“Mhm, no you don’t,” Aidan scoffs, reeking of sarcasm. “You’re worse than a romantic comedy, Richard.”

Unsure if he should take offence or not he doesn’t respond to that one and chooses to get as much as he can out of them instead. “What I was going to ask you was,” he says leaning forward in his chair and lowering his voice because some part of him still doesn’t want anybody to hear this, not even these two, but he hasn’t got much of a choice right now, has he? “What would you do if you were in my position?”

Aidan blinks and turns to Dean who glances back at him. They look at each other for a moment before sharing a small smile. Aidan turns back towards Richard with a shrug, attempting to push a tuft of wild hair away from his face behind his ears. It flops back after two seconds, but this time Aidan leaves it there. “Just do what feels right, Richard.”

“Yeah, do as I did with Aid and kiss him. He’ll get the idea soon enough,” Dean adds and Richard expects a laugh from the both of them, but it doesn’t come. Richard blinks and swallows, his hands are clammy and his heart is starting to thump faster just thinking about it.

“Maybe not here, though,” Aidan says and Richard sort of wants to tell them both to shut up because just thinking about kissing Lee makes his heart do crazy things and he’s pretty sure the sheen of sweat forming on his forehead is visible.

“You go over to his trailer, yeah, and confess this whole love-thing and then you kiss, and everything’ll be totally fine,” Dean says and smiles and his hair looks like he’s been standing in a wind machine, he’s got bags under his eyes, but he’s smiling nonetheless; Aidan looks tired and worn, probably hasn’t taken a shower for the last couple of days or even brushed his teeth this morning, but still, _once again_ , it’s the boys’ adorableness that saves them from a good whack on the head.

“I can’t just do that,” Richard argues, but it’s half-assed at best.

“And why the bloody hell not? That’s what Dean did and it turned out fine,” says Aidan and leans forward again, his hands doing these weird movements that makes him look like he has no idea what he’s actually doing.

“Fine?” Dean snorts, nudging Aidan softly in the ribs to get his attention.

“Ok, awesome.”

“Pretty _damn_ awesome to you, Mr Turner.”

Richard turns away from them and looks out the window to their left instead where he spots Jimmy and Graham walking towards the entrance of the cafeteria. Maybe he should wrap this talk up some time now, because God knows his other cast mates will wonder what’s up when they hear what subject’s got Aidan and Dean talking over each other.

“Thanks for your help, lads,” he says, giving them a sincere smile to show that he means it, and doesn’t wait until Graham and Jimmy comes in before he leaves their table. Aidan and Dean stops “arguing” and looks up, ready to protest by the looks of it, but they don’t get the chance to voice their objections before he’s giving them both a pat on their shoulders on his way past, “Your help was much appreciated. Talk to you later.”

He leaves before they can say anything and hurries out the door, past a slightly bewildered Graham and James who, by the sound of it, were talking about garden furniture.

*

Richard’s been thinking about moving. He likes the trailer-lot, though, and he likes his neighbours even if they’re both noisy and nosy bastards most of the time. He likes the feeling of community by watching the fifteen-something white giant trailers all strategically placed in an area that isn’t much bigger than thirty-times-thirty square meters and walking with a group of four or more towards the make-up trailer every morning. He likes that one person can open their door on one end and shout at a person on the other - which is mostly James cracking dirty jokes with Graham late at night when they should all be asleep, and sometimes Stephen pokes his head out to comment their shitty sense of humour.

What he likes most though, is how close he is to his best friends; Aidan and Dean are only two trailers down, past Graham and Jimmy’s on the left, with Lee on his immediate right.

Living in a trailer is actually more fun than he’d expected it to be, but it got a little too small after a while. He’s been in that thing close to eight months now and although there’s more than enough room for Richard and his sparse belongings it’s starting to feel like the walls are crawling in on him.

Yeah, and then there’s that bloody wooden beam above the door to his bedroom that’s hanging just a bit too low; he keeps knocking his head on it every time he gets up in the morning, and when he’s going to bed again at the end of the day.

So, almost two weeks later, he has found himself a nice apartment just outside the busy part of Wellington, a good ten-minute walk from the set, two minutes by bike – which he has also acquired. It’s relatively small, about five times the size of his trailer, he reckons, but he’s fine with that. The only thing he wanted was a place he could call his own. Somewhere he could set up that coffee-machine he bought around Christmas last year, and the water-boiler; a place with cupboards that has the capacity to hold more than one silly old _Winnie the Pooh_ porcelain mug and his box of teas.

It has one bedroom, a reasonably sized living room, and a beautiful large and open kitchen _with an island_ ; a thing most one-room apartments seem to lack. Richard is very happy about the kitchen-island. There’s a rather big stove there as well that he bought and had an electrician put up about a week ago. It’s black, shiny, and placed at chest height.

The walls are a light beige colour and of stone, seeing as the apartment building is made of tawny bricks. The building is new, made in ’06, if he remembers correctly.

There’s a fireplace in the living room. Richard’s quite fond of that one too; it’s clad in white large square stones, and has a sort of shelf built out on its front, much like Jed’s, only that one was a lot bigger. The mantelpiece is of a dark wood and large enough to hold large candles or small sculptures. Richard hasn’t put anything up there yet, but plans to as soon as he has time – and something to put there in the first place.

There wasn’t any furniture in there so he had to get that himself. A short visit to the closest IKEA store, with Aidan and Dean as helpful “nephews” at his disposal, fixed that problem; he got two grey couches of a soft yet sturdy fabric, two-seaters both of them, a couple of sheep skins for them as well, a coffee-table of a dark golden wood with hidden storage room – Richard bought that one because it looked like a chest and he’s always wanted one of those.

Another reason why he got it was also because he can keep his wine in there. As of right now there are two bottles of _Fortnum's Claret, Chateau Fongaban,_ three bottles of _Château La Garde_ , and one _Gérard Bertrand Naturae Cabernet Sauvignon_ placed safely within it along with tall wine glasses and table napkins. In his kitchen are another four wine bottles: a couple _Dolcetto_ ’s and _Chianti_ ’s, only they are exclusively for cooking.

The wall on the right-hand side of the fireplace in the living room is graced with a large bookshelf of dark, almost black, wood. Richard thinks it might be Walnut, or perhaps Myrtle, or Brazilian Rosewood. He has no idea, he doesn’t know a whole lot about different kinds of wood species. There aren’t many books in it yet, but he hopes to have filled it up, or close to, by the time they’ve finished shooting. So far all of Professor Tolkien’s books that Richard owns are in there, a couple history books, encyclopaedias, and a few statuettes – busts, mostly. A potted plant, a tiny bundle of purple petunias, has also found its way in there.

The kitchen is kept simple and tidy with a medium sized fridge, a dishwasher, but has a large sink and plenty of counter space which will come in handy when Richard decides to test his culinary skills in his new apartment once he’s moved in completely. There’s a dark dining table set a few paces from the kitchen island, oval-shaped and able to fit two people comfortably. He didn’t get a bigger one since he’s pretty confident he is going to be the only one living here for as long as he’s planning to.

He hopes to have Lee over, though, sometime. And Aidan and Dean and Graham and Jimmy. And the rest of the guys. But not all at once because he really doesn’t have the space to pull that off, and he doesn’t want to piss off the guy owning this complex, either, since a bunch of rowdy dwarves getting together tends to get, well, rowdy.

He hasn’t got a TV yet, nor a DVD-player. The only thing he’s got of the kind is a tiny radio in the kitchen that, luckily, has an AUX port so he can hook it up to his iPod whenever he’s cooking.

His bedroom is fine, too. Not too small and not too big. He’s got a rather large bed which comes in handy since he tends to sprawl over the entire surface of it in his sleep instead of sticking to one side, or keep his large frame in the middle. The window, large, with a decent sized windowsill, is on the left hand wall, framed by thick purple curtains that he only bought because the sales-lady said they’d keep the sunlight out in the mornings. He found the dresser at a second-hand store in downtown Wellington and he almost didn’t get it because this old lady who’d been eying the thing for a while almost ran away with it before he could pay for it.

Technically, he hasn’t completely moved in yet. He borrowed Dean’s car last week and drove over to set the IKEA furniture up and all that, but he’s still living in his trailer in their little lot between the soundstages.

Dean’s car is still parked at the far end of the trailer-lot and the keys are in his pockets, though; he’s going back there today with the rest of his things. Clothes mostly. And some more books, a couple of mugs, pillows and duvets, blankets, his laptop, and some of the DVDs he brought down from England. Everything else is already up there, waiting for him.

He’s pushing the last of his folded sweaters into the cardboard box on the tiny table when he finally realizes that he’s moving in there today. Finally, after all this time he’s got his own place, a home.

Smiling to himself he closes the box and puts it on top of the others beside his door. The moment he’s turned his back there’s a soft knock, followed by three other unsure sounding ones, on his door. Puzzled, but glad for the distraction, he turns back around and opens it, finding a slightly nervous-looking Lee Pace on the other side.

“Hello,” Richard says after a beat and stands there like he’s frozen in time before he remembers that he should probably let the guest in. He stands aside, holds the door open, and gestures for Lee to enter.

“Good evening,” Lee breathes once he’s in and stops short, probably from the sight of how naked Richard’s trailer looks now that everything’s taken down and placed inside brown cardboard boxes, even the calendar taped to his fridge. It’s down in the box marked ‘ _kitchen things’_. “You’re moving. You’re moving today?” he asks as he turns around and something in his voice sounds sad or wistful, or perhaps hurt; Richard’s having trouble placing it.

“Hi, yes,” Richard says and looks at his boxes before glancing back at Lee. “I was going to go over the trailer one more time to see if I’ve got everything, but I’ve already done that three times so I guess I’m good to go.” He says it in a soft voice, softer than he’s used to talking. Perhaps it’s because of the way Lee’s shoulders are hunched, or how he can’t seem to decide if he should keep his hands in his pockets or out of them.

“I didn’t think you’d leave so soon,” Lee says and there’s a smile on his lips now, though Richard suspects it’s only there to save face.

“Well, it’s only two minutes away.” He feels an overpowering need to reassure and has to force himself to stay put and not step closer to Lee and gather him up in his arms and just hold him, because God knows he wants to.

This seems to relax Lee; his shoulders fall down and he raises his head again. The smile playing on his lips looks more sincere now. “Did I interrupt you or anything just now, then”?

“No, not at all,” Richard laughs and scratches the back of his neck, feeling all too much like a nervous teenager standing in front of someone he’s had a crush on for ages. This is totally accurate, too, save for the fact that he’s a forty-year old man, not fifteen. But still he is still blushing far more than he finds acceptable.

Lee smiles. Richard can’t seem to fight down the grin on his own lips.

“You know,” he says and stops himself, having no idea how to ask this question and sound casual about it at the same time. “Um, have you seen it? The apartment, I mean,” he rattles off and by the time he’s finished his heart has doubled its rhythm.

“No, I haven’t actually. How is it?”

“Oh, it’s wonderful. I think I must insist you come with me right now and have a look. I might need help carrying up the boxes anyhow.”

-

They take two boxes each and carry them over to the parking lot where they load them up in Dean’s car. There’s just enough room for them all in the small boot, making Richard shake his head and grin, wondering how Dean has made it all these years using only that tiny vehicle to get around in.

One of those mixed CDs are popped in from the last time Richard borrowed the car and the soft notes of an acoustic guitar fills the small confines of the car when he starts it and swings out onto the road.

Lee makes a sound approval and leans forward to turn up the volume. “I like this song,” he says, and turns away again, looking out the window and the ever-darkening sky and the long lines of streetlights illuminating the city.

Richard nods before realizing Lee can’t hear nods so he just mutters, “Yeah,” instead and stops when the light turns red.

“This is Dean’s music?”

“Um, yeah. Or Aidan’s. I’m not sure.”

The car turns quiet again, save for the guitar strings, now accompanied by a soft voice:

_“Follow you down to the red oak tree_   
_as the air moves thick through the hollow reeds_   
_I will wait for you there until someone comes_   
_to carry me, carry me down”_

 

Richard can’t decide if the song is sad or happy, or maybe both, because he’s never paid any attention to the words, just listened to the sound of the voice serenading through the car as much as the instruments. He hears Lee mumbling along now, though. A soft murmuring, barely audible, but it’s so beautiful. Richard has a feeling he thinks anything Lee does is beautiful, just because Lee is the one doing it. He feels a flush rising in his cheeks, but for once he doesn’t mind how embarrassing he finds himself and drives on, Lee humming and smiling beside him.

-

“Whoa, what, this is it?” Lee asks when they pull into the parking lot belonging to the apartment building. Richard turns his head to look at him and feels his heart doing summersaults when Lee meets his gaze and grins, impressed written in every feature of his face.

Richard chuckles and pulls up the parking break. He turns the volume down nearly all the way and settles back in his seat. “Yeah, this is it.” He feels himself puffing up, proud of himself almost, just knowing that Lee so readily approves of his choice in apartment buildings.

“It’s beautiful,” Lee muses in a soft voice, he’s almost leaning against the dashboard trying to catch a glimpse of the entire building, which is quite tall, one of the taller buildings in this area of Wellington.

It’s a bit darker outside now, but the building is still perfectly visible. “Let’s go inside, then,” Richard says and shares another smile with Lee before they both get out of the car. Richard opens the trunk and gives Lee two of the boxes and takes the other two himself. Somehow it feels as if they’ve gotten lighter though he’s sure he is carrying the same ones as before.

“This is awesome, Richard, seriously,” Lee says as they’re walking up the staircases to the level Richard’s flat is on. He compliments the stairs, too, and the rails which are made of iron, painted black, and wrought into shapes mimicking a simplistic version of the twisting and curling vines of a clematis-plant. It looks like a lot of work, as does the entire building; nothing has been one half-heartedly in this place and that’s part of the reason why Richard chose this one.

Richard feels himself blushing again and clears his throat, like that would make it go away. “It’s quite beautiful, yes-,”

“The amount of detail _everywhere_ ,” Lee breathes and then laughs, as if his own enthusiasm embarrassed him. Richard knows all too well what that’s like so he chuckles with him, hoping it would make him more at ease.

They reach the third floor and Richard leads them along the corridor until they reach the dark brown door to his flat. “This is it,” he says, rather unnecessary seeing as they’re standing there, and gently places the boxes down on the floor so he can fish the keys out of his pockets.

Lee waits patiently while Richard unlocks the door and lets out a nearly inaudible gasp when the door opens and he takes his first steps inside. “Wow, Richard, this-this is … wow.”

“Thanks,” comes Richard’s short answer in lack of anything else to say. Yes, it’s beautiful, but it was beautiful before he bought it, too. All he did was fill it up with pieces of furniture he bought on sale from IKEA. He does appreciate Lee’s approval, though, and thinks he might appreciate Lee’s more than, say, Jimmy or Graham. The thought doesn’t even unsettle him.

He watches as Lee toes his shoes off and puts the boxes carefully down on the carpet in the tiny foyer, before taking cautious steps into the rest of the flat. There is wonder written in every movement Lee makes and watching him Richard feels his heart quicken again, only this time it’s a good kind of heart-hammering. It leaves him feeling like he’s just had the most wonderful cup of tea followed by one or two many glasses of his favourite red wine. He feels it all the way out to his fingertips, his toes, and for some reason his knees seem to be shaking and he’s almost losing his grip the boxes in his hands.

Richard puts the boxes down on the floor next to the ones Lee were carrying and takes his own shoes off. He stands there for a moment and feels like no matter what he chooses to do now won’t go wrong, that he could pick up a pencil and create a masterpiece, or make run for it and climb Mount Cook in one go. It feels like the bravery Ian were talking about, and the determination Aidan was describing in Dean.

When he finally gets his body to move he follows Lee’s steps out into the living room, and finds his – _his_ – elven king standing in the middle of the room, his eyes on the fire place, a soft smile on his face. Richard takes slow steps closer and feels himself getting warmer and braver every step of the way.

Lee turns around when he hears Richard coming and his smile widens until the corners of his eyes crinkle. “You have a fireplace,” he says.

Richard doesn’t say anything as he walks all the way over, not saving his wonderful fire place a second glance, and cups Lee’s cheeks carefully, so carefully, like he is made of something fragile that could break if Richard isn’t mindful of his hands.

Lee’s smile falls, but it’s still there in his eyes. He brings his own hands up to Richard’s arms, not to push them away, but hold them in place. He looks like a man starving and just looking at Richard quenches his hunger.

This is it, Richard thinks, this is what his friends have all been talking about, the weak-at-the-knees, love-striking-so-deep-it-feels-like-it’s-not-possible-to-keep-living-unless-he’s-holding-on-to-this-person feeling. He smiles, his thumbs making small circles on Lee’s neck.

Then he leans in and the butterflies in his stomach bursts into a hyperactive mob, he’s got Lee in his arms, and they’re both smiling like something they both thought impossible is now finally happening. He leans closer and it’s slow, almost too slow, but he wants to savour these moments right before everything changes.

He closes his eyes when his nose bumps into Lee’s and feels rather than hear Lee’s breath catching in his throat. Richard can’t help but rub his nose against Lee’s a final time before angling his head so he can catch Lee’s lips.

He misses and ends up kissing the corner of his lips instead. He leans back, but is still close enough to nose at Lee’s blushing cheeks. He chuckles. Lee huffs and Richard opens his eyes again and stares into them; it’s so close everything is blurry, but Richard has never seen him look as beautiful as he does in this moment.

“Let me try that again,” Richard whispers around a smile and waits for Lee to nod before he moves back. This time their lips meet exactly as they should and it feels like fireworks going off right under his skin. The butterflies go crazy. He presses his lips against Lee’s, still softly, maybe too softly, because suddenly Lee’s arms are going around his waist and tugging him closer and he’s pressing his lips more resolutely against Richard’s, and then it suddenly dawns on him that they’re kissing.

Richard’s hands move back until his fingers are in Lee’s hair and moves his head the other way. He wishes Lee’s hair was longer, just for the sake of burying his fingers deeper in his soft locks, and he wants stroke his hair behind his ears. Lee smiles against his mouth; the sounds of their lips moving together seems almost too loud in the otherwise silent room.

When they eventually back away from each other, Richard’s hands still on Lee’s face and Lee’s arms still around Richard’s waist, both grinning.

He spends a moment just looking at Lee like this is the first time he’s been allowed to just look at him and study every single millimetre of his face. He admires the thickness of his eyebrows, the handsome cut of his jaw, and the slope of his nose.

“I’ve been waiting for you to do that for a very long time,” Lee mumbles a moment later and adjusts his hands until they’re on Richard’s hips. “Was starting to think you’d never do it. That I’d have to do it myself.”

Richard chuckles and strokes his thumb over the edge of Lee’s ear, earning a shiver in return because apparently that’s one of his ticklish spots. Richard vows to look into that closer another time. “Are you saying you think I’m a pansy?”

Lee laughs and ducks his head before looking back up, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Not anymore.”

Richard just kisses him again, smiling against Lee’s mouth, and feels braver than all the dwarves in the company of Thorin Oakenshield put together.


	4. cuddle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please holler at me if you find any typos, i'm horrible at finding those :)

There are a lot of things Richard never knew about Lee until they started living together. Well, technically, they’re not exactly _living_ together in the common sense of the word. It’s more like having a visitor that ends up staying for a bit longer each day until he only goes home to sleep before coming back again.

That’s the sort of arrangement they have; Lee comes over, they cook, watch TV, talk, and then at the end of the day, they kiss at the door, and Lee goes back to his tin-box of a trailer down by the main stages.

This thing they have _now_ is not how it started, but it’s what it morphed into and Richard would be flat-out lying if he said he didn’t like it. Sometimes, though, there’s a feeling he hasn’t bothered to put a name on that comes crawling up his spine every now and then, that wants him to pull Lee back in by his thin wrists and kiss him and tell him that he doesn’t have to go back tonight.

Sure, that’s what he’d love to do. Came quite close a couple of times, but he always shakes the thought right back out of his head, always muttering a “not yet” to himself each time that door closed and the sound of Lee’s footsteps dulled out and got replaced by a gnawing silence.

Richard has a feeling, though, that “not yet” is slowly starting to turning into “maybe today”. That’s what he’s thinking anyhow when he’s looking over at that six-foot-tall bundle of sunshine and excited energy, plump cheeks starting to get a bit pink from the warmth in the little kitchen, mouth moving along to a song playing on the radio.

That’s one thing Richard has learned about his co-star from their … arrangement. Those little things he does when he thinks no one’s listening or looking; he hums. Sometimes he sings, too. And he’s constantly doing things with his face that never fails to put a smile on Richard’s face, no matter how trying that day was, or how much of Thorin’s anger and grumpiness hung on a little too tight after he shed his costume and everything Thorin-like.

Richard thinks that might be one of his favourite things about him; that tiny flicker of a smile sent his way, or laugh when he sees something funny, how that seems to be the cure to just about everything. It’s kind of a miracle, in a very every-day-like sort of thing, that Lee Pace has the ability to so effortlessly haul out even the littlest ray of sunshine, when a storm appears to have darkened the whole world.

He doesn’t know for certain quite yet, but he’s pretty sure he loves him. There was always a feeling of trepidation connected to that word, with Richard, but this time it never comes. He thinks he should be surprised, but he isn't.

“What’re you thinkin’ about?”

Richard blinks and finds he’s been staring at Lee’s right shoulder, lost in thought, without doing what he was supposed to be doing, for God knows how long. “Huh? What?” comes his automatic response, followed by what he hopes is an innocent smile.

Lee quirks an eyebrow at him so he reckons the smile didn’t work, and Richard suddenly gets taken aback by how different and strange all this really is; how unlike Lee is Thranduil, or anyone else Richard knows for that matter. The way they move around each other and talk and joke like they’ve lived here together for _years_.

“Nothing,” he says and smiles. Lee doesn’t buy it, but this time Richard laughs and closes the remaining space between them by tugging Lee towards him by the hem of his shirt. Lee goes without protest and ducks his head. Richard thinks it might be because he’s blushing. His cheeks are looking awfully pink now.

“Just you and me, I guess,” Richard mutters and places his hand on the back of Lee’s neck. He presses a kiss to the top of his head and can’t help but smile when Lee sighs contentedly and the air of it hits his neck.

Lee’s only retort is another sigh and a hum as his arms comes up to close around Richard’s waist.

It takes a full two minutes before the real response comes. “And what were they? The thoughts about you and me? Not still mad about that cup, are you?”

Richard finds it completely appropriate to pinch Lee for that.

“Ouch!”

“Happy.”

“Who’s happy?”

“The thoughts. They were happy.”

He doesn’t need to see Lee’s smile to know it’s there, but he still frames Lee’s face in both hands and brings it up. They’re a bit too close for him to see much, things have a tendency to get rather blurry when you’re poking your nose at it, but he doesn’t mind. He can see Lee’s eyes, and they’ve got that mischievous glint in them that tells him something’s about to happen, but he just lets it be in favour of pressing a kiss to his smiling lips.

He’s leaning back again when one of Lee’s hands come up to cup Richard’s neck, pulling him back for a few more. Lee can’t get enough of kissing Richard, it seems, and that’s absolutely wonderful because Richard can’t get enough of Lee kissing him, either.

***

It’s been almost a full week now since that first kiss by the fireplace. Six days and some odd hours, he reckons. Richard’s gotten awfully good at thinking about things lately, he muses for himself. The future especially; how it’ll all turn out in the end when they’re done shooting and everyone’s jumping on planes, leaving this family to go home to their other one.

Nothing good ever comes out of thinking about this kind of stuff, but Richard can’t help himself. Will hopping aboard a plane be the first thing Lee does when everything is over and done with? Or will he stay here?

Will Richard fly back home to England? Or will he stay here?

If he does, he won’t be happy about it, that’s for sure. He’s fallen harder for this flat than he thought he would; leaving it for good would be hard. Leaving Lee would be hard as well, if it ever comes down to it.

No. That’s not going to happen. Maybe he’ll join Lee and fly off to America with him after, meet his family, breathe in some new air for a while. And then perhaps they’ll head over to England, introduce Lee to his parents, get a house, a dog.

He knows it’s a bit too early to think about that, but, hell, when’s that ever stopped him? Richard should get a medal for this; overthinking things all the time. They haven’t even slept together yet, and he’s already thinking five years into the future. There’s something not quite right about that, maybe he’s a bit backwards, but he doesn’t get to think on that any further because that’s when he feels something poking him in the ribs.

“Hey, zonin’ out again?” Lee says and laughs. He’s lying with his long legs over Richard’s lap, resting his head on a bundled blanket since there weren’t any pillows available. He’s nursing his third glass of wine and his cheeks are redder now than they’ve ever been, and his Oklahoman drawl is becoming more prominent with each sip he takes.

Richard huffs and leans his head back against the back of the couch again. The angle is still a bit too extreme so he slides down further into the cushions and closes his eyes. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“Nah, don’ be. What’re you thinkin’ so hard on anyhow? ‘s our day off for once, _week_ actually. Tryta enjoy it,” Lee murmurs from Richard’s left and clears his throat. He adjusts his legs a bit and then settles again.

He reminds Richard a bit of Dean the first time he saw him drunk. In the beginning he was all too much energy and giggles, but then half an hour later, he was lying face down on a carpet with a shoe under his head, sleeping soundly with a smile on his face. Only difference, he thinks, is it’s Lee’s lying in Richard’s couch and he’s clutching a wine glass and not a shoe. Oh and he’s in love with _this_ guy.

“I don’t know,” Richard says and he feels bad about lying. “A little bit about a lot of things.”

“Mmm,” Lee hums and starts moving his foot to a beat only he can hear. They sit together in a comfortable silence for a while after that, taking tiny sips of their respective wine glasses. They’re on the second bottle, and for a brief second Richard’s worried about running out, but then he remembers the stack of wine he has inside the coffee table and he barely manages to swallow a mouthful of red _Franc_ before he starts laughing.

Lee laughs too, even though it’s apparent he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to be laughing _at_. “What?” he asks, barely able to keep his eyes open. He pushes a tired hand through his hair and lets it rest there, hanging limply off the armrest behind him.

Richard stares at him then and it might be the wine, but he’s sure he’s never seen anything more beautiful.

“No, shut up,” Lee suddenly scoffs and smiles, tapping his toes against Richard’s arm on the armrest, and that’s when he realises he said the words out loud.

“’s true,” Richard says and he’s not sure when he started talking without thinking first, since that’s always been what he’s good at, but it must’ve been between the third glass and the fourth. “Your eyebrows.” It comes out as a whisper, and some part of him says he would’ve been embarrassed if all the wine hadn’t been involved, but now? Now he’s starting to get rather drunk, and he finds he doesn’t give a shit what happens for the rest of the night.

He can feel Lee moving and almost startles when cold fingers wrap around his own. Oh, he has closed his eyes again, that’s why. He can feel the vibrations from Lee laughing through the couch, or he thinks he can feel it. He’s not sure. Might be his imagination.

“What about m’eyebrows?”

He almost doesn’t hear it, it’s so low, and he almost doesn’t answer either until Lee tugs impatiently on his fingers and nudges his knee against his chest. Richard grins and wonders if Lee is this restless in his sleep as well.

“Richard,” Lee grumbles and sighs, tugging on his fingers again.

“They’re beautiful,” Richard whispers because he’s tired and he can’t open his eyes back up again. He’s also a bit too warm and contemplates getting up to shed his shirt, but he’s too limp to do anything other than just half-sit, half-lie there with his feet on the coffee table. “And … dark. Like-,” but nothing else comes out. Maybe he’s had a bit too much to drink already. How many glasses has he had already? Five? Six? Eight?

“’s too warm in here, Richard. What’d ya fire with?” Lee asks and starts getting restless again, trying to find a better angle for his head, or something, Richard doesn’t know. He’s not looking.

“Wood, mostly,” Richard says and really wishes he’d gotten up five seconds ago to get rid of that goddamn shirt.

“Oh.”

-

They drink the rest of the bottle, somehow without spilling a single drop anywhere, and by the end of it they’re sitting on the floor with their backs leaning against the sofa, half on top of each other, legs and arms tangled, feet angled towards the dying embers still giving off heat in the fireplace.

“I had a great time t’night, Richard,” Lee says after a while and places a warm hand on Richard’s thigh as if to further illustrate his point. “Thank you.”

There’s something about the way Lee says it that gets the cogs turning in Richard’s head again, only now there’s a limited amount of cog-turning to be done since he can’t even tell what the time is no matter how long he squints and stares at his watch. He has half a mind to decide that’s something to dwell on tomorrow, but considering the amount of alcohol in his system, he wouldn’t be too surprised if it’s all gone in five minutes.

“Me too,” he says and turns his head, leaning over until their heads are touching. He places his own hand over Lee’s and gives it a gentle squeeze. “Me too.”

“’m tired,” comes the tired drawl from Lee a full two minutes later and Richard has to laugh at that. He leans in and presses a kiss to the side of Lee’s head and moves to get up.

“We should maybe go get some sleep then,” he says and doesn’t even get himself up on his knees before the entire room starts swinging and tilting. “Fuck.” It wasn’t that funny, he’s not sure if it was even the slightest bit funny, but Lee’s laughing now and it doesn’t take long for Richard to join in.

They end up laughing, more at each other than anything, for God knows how long, and Richard would be lying if he said he isn’t relieved when they finally both get up standing, all wobbly knees and groping hands both of them, and make their way towards the bedroom.

Lee nearly trips twice and that’s a bit of a miracle seeing as their destination is less than three metres away. Richard prides himself in the fact that he didn’t even jam his toes against anything on the way over, and his ability to hold a half-sleeping Lee Pace up by just an arm around his waist.

They make it, though, gracelessly maybe, but no one knocked their heads against anything so Richard takes it as the victory that it is, small as it may be. The bed is a welcome sight in the dark and he’s so glad he got one that’s big enough to fit them both comfortably.

Lee’s hanging heavily on his shoulder now and Richard thinks he might actually have nodded off, so he wills his legs and arms to hold on a little bit tighter for just a little bit longer so he can make it over without dropping him on his head. He places him carefully on the right side, the one Richard finds he doesn’t much favour for some reason, and looks down at him for a while.

He should take his pants off. Waking up, sweating through your jeans isn’t exactly the most pleasant thing in the world. But then again, he’s still got enough brainpower left to hesitate on it. It’s not like they haven’t _touched_ each other before. They’ve gotten a little handsy every now and then, but they’ve never actually snaked their hands down each other’s pants yet.

“Fuck it,” he whispers after thinking it through a couple of times, coming to the conclusion that if it was the other way around, Lee would’ve rid Richard of his pants by this point. He’s still hesitating a bit reaching for the button on Lee’s jeans, but once he’s got that open and the zip down it feels almost like undressing himself. The pants ends up somewhere on the floor next to his wardrobe-closet and the shirt, because since he’d started he might as well finish it, hits something that clinks, but he doesn’t know what since he can’t see nothing but his own hands and Lee’s pale form rocking the starfish in his bed.

He tears his own clothes off with the efficiency of mad man with ants crawling all over, and all but stumbles into the bed. In here it’s awfully cold and he counts another point in his favour when he finds he bought two duvets. Lee has turned over on his stomach now, one arm under the pillow and the other over it in front of his face. Richard smiles, shakes his head, and pulls the duvet out from under Lee’s legs before gently tucking it around him.

He feels a bit like a mother hen, making sure every limb is under the covers, but he ignores it. He’s drunk. Drunk people tend to think irrational thoughts. He presses a kiss to the top of Lee’s head before tucking himself in, feeling exhaustion catching up on him faster than he’d think. He barely catches the sound of incoherent mumbling from the other side of the bed before sleep drags him under.

***

Richard tells himself he’s not spending the greater portion of his free-time studying a man named Lee Grinner Pace. He tells himself that more often than he’s comfortable admitting, but that, unfortunately, is one big, fat lie.

He’s even doing it now, he _knows_ he’s doing it, but he doesn’t want to stop just yet. Not when Lee’s face is slack with sleep, and he’s pressed into the pillow, one arm slung over the side of the bed and the other resting on Richard’s chest.

Richard finds himself grinning to himself, looking down, following the lean pale limb from the middle of his chest to a round shoulder peeking out from under the covers.

He studies the long, black lashes fanning his cheeks, how they give a slight tremble every time his eyes move under his lids. He looks so peaceful and young, and so utterly unlike Thranduil that Richard almost can’t believe Lee’s the one actually portraying him.

Lee has a week’s worth of stubble where the elven king is smooth and pale. Lee’s hair is ruffled out of control, and could stumble on a pebble when walking down the streets. The only thing they’ve got in common, Lee and Thranduil, Richard thinks, is that they both like wine.

He traces the oval lines of Lee’s shoulders, the handsome slope of his nose and the slight upwards tug of his lips until he gets tired again. Looking at his wrist watch reveals that it’s still a bit too early to be up, so he closes his eyes and falls back asleep.

***

They eat breakfast in the kitchen two hours later. The small oval table set with round beige plates on top of deep purple napkin-cloths. A couple of tall, clear wine glasses are still seated on the table since last night, and Richard doesn’t know if it’s in good humour or laziness that Lee pours milk in them both without batting an eye. It looks like a scene from a weird romantic comedy; the dim lights, the milk in the wine glasses, how thoroughly Lee has set the table despite housing a wrenching headache, paying attention to every little detail, like making sure the forks and knives were lying in the right angle in proportion to the plates.

That’s another thing he’s learnt about him. How obsessed he can be about placing the cutlery perfectly even though they’re only having breakfast, to how easy it is for him to walk around wearing only one sock for an entire day.

Richard smiles and watches as Lee keeps fretting around, placing the bowl of freshly boiled eggs on the table and not being able to make up his mind over where exactly it should stand. It’s hopelessly endearing and Richard can’t stop himself from crossing the floor and loop his arms around Lee’s waist from behind.

Lee immediately straightens up and chuckles. He brings one of his hands up to hold Richard’s and leans back against him like a giant puppy looking for affection. Richard noses Lee’s hair, inhaling his scent, before bending down to press his lips against Lee’s shoulder. He sighs, still sort of surprised of how different than his expectations his life in New Zealand has turned out.

“Is the rest ready?” Lee asks and then finally turns around in Richard’s arms.

Richard nods. “Just waiting for you to decide where you want the eggs,” he teases and laughs when Lee sends him a glare.

-

“I was thinking about going on a hike,” Lee says as he’s scraping butter over a piece of toasted bread, snapping Richard out of his thoughts on whether or not they should bother going out for the rest of the day.

“Hm?” He half expects him to be joking since he does a lot of that, but that mischievous smile never appears.

“You know, for our break. ‘s comin’ up soon, thought maybe I should start planning things,” Lee says and shrugs, dipping the spoon into the jam four times before deciding he has enough. The bread’s all but drowned. Richard refrains from tossing a napkin at him.

“Where’d you want to go?” Richard asks, finding himself rather interested in where this conversation might end up.

Lee shrugs again and gives him that little smile of his, just a tiny tug on the corner of his lips. “I’ve always wanted to go on a hike here, but I don’t know yet. Thought you might know of a few good places.” He says it like it’s no big deal, he probably expects Richard not to agree to it, and the thought of it feels like a sharp jab right in his gut.

“Yeah. I’ve got a couple in mind,” Richard answers and sends Lee what he hopes is a reassuring smile. When Lee doesn’t reply, he thinks a more tangible answer is in order. “We’d have to pack lots of food, though. And clothes. Socks. The bogs are _everywhere_.”

The smile he gets from Lee then, and his cheeks go warm just thinking about it, but hell, that smile right there is what made him fall for this guy in the first place.

 

 


End file.
